


drunken

by youngwoong



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: (ex) Hunter!Youngjo, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence in flashback, Coming In Pants, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Some background plot bc i'm me, minor bg chara death, vampire!hwanwoong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngwoong/pseuds/youngwoong
Summary: “When have I ever been afraid of you?” Youngjo asks softly. “I’ve never had a reason to be afraid.” He raises a hand, cupping Hwanwoong’s cheek so he couldn’t look away.What a weird vampire,he thinks, the corners of his lips curving in a smile. “Even after I finally found you, feral and almost dead, I wasn’t afraid.”
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 10
Kudos: 127





	drunken

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i'm back again 🙏 this is like, /VERY/ loosely inspired by the concept trailer, but i also just have had this idea floating in my brain for a while now... i would like to write more about it, and maybe like...write a whole ass story about my vague idea, but i'm me !!
> 
> think twilight era looks bc.....😩💦
> 
> also, excuse any typos... i have reread this a million and two times....
> 
> anyways, please enjoy !

“Are you afraid?”

Youngjo cocks an eyebrow, fighting the way he wants to laugh. Instead, he tilts his head so he’s looking at Hwanwoong again, who looks hungry yet strangely nervous all at once. It eases something inside of Youngjo, makes the urge to tease the other dissipate; after all, he understood why Hwanwoong was nervous, why he was so hesitant, even if it wasn’t necessary.

“When have I ever been afraid of you?” Youngjo asks softly. “I’ve never had a reason to be afraid.” He raises a hand, cupping Hwanwoong’s cheek so he couldn’t look away. _What a weird vampire,_ he thinks, the corners of his lips curving in a smile. “Even after I finally found you, feral and almost dead _,_ I wasn’t afraid.”

Hwanwoong sniffs indignantly, messing with the collar of Youngjo’s shirt. He shifts on top of him, having to fight a growl from ripping through his throat at the way Youngjo’s breath stutters. Hwanwoong stills, the pulse of Youngjo’s heart deafening in his ears. It takes all of his control to _not_ shift again with purpose, to _not_ lean in and mouth along Youngjo’s neck. _I need to be sure,_ he thinks, although he already knows.

“That wasn’t my best moment,” is what he finally murmurs. “But, can you blame me.”

Youngjo laughs and it becomes a bit easier to focus again. “Still, though… I’m not afraid.” Slowly, he grazes his thumb underneath the cool, soft skin of Hwanwoong’s eye—and it should be strange, perhaps eerie, the red of Hwanwoong’s irises, but it isn’t. Just an hour ago, he had seen the golden hue of them.

“I worry for you,” Hwanwoong says then, pulling Youngjo from his thoughts. He’s still messing with the collar of the other’s shirt, fingertips grazing against skin softly.

“Why for? There’s really no—“

“Not _you,_ exactly. More like… I want to ask… even after all this time: is your head alright?”

Hwanwoong watches Youngjo’s eyes go comically wide before he laughs again—a deep, booming one that Hwanwoong is sure he will replay, over and over, until the end of his days. He watches as Youngjo throws his head back, watches as his Adams apple bobs up and down, and he cannot help but watch the vein in Youngjo’s neck jump.

At first, his gaze was fond, but he can feel the hunger grow the more he watches.

“What do you even _mean_ …th-that—“ Youngjo snorts, lifting a hand away from Hwanwoong’s hip in favor of covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Y-You’ve become quite… _cheeky_ …haven’t you?”

“Well, I am around you an awful lot.”

“Are you being mean, Woong?” Youngjo teases, feigning hurt. He brings his unoccupied hand to his chest and looks the other way. As laughter bubbles up his throat again, he swallows it down, focusing on the cross above the doorway he’d bought as a gag gift. Every time Hwanwoong walked past it, he would roll his eyes, muttering under his breath about _myth_ this and _legend_ that, and— _no,_ Youngjo thinks, shoulders shaking with held back laughter, _think about something else._ “I-I don’t know if I’ll let you feed from me, if all you’re going to do is be mean.”

Hwanwoong hums, his expression blank. “Then, I’ll find someone else.”

“What?” Youngjo almost breaks his neck with how fast he turned to look at Hwanwoong. He narrows his eyebrows. “You _what?_ ” It had been something they’d talked about, countless times, _endlessly_. He’d be the first to admit it—ever since he’d gotten injured while fighting alongside Hwanwoong a few months ago, Youngjo hadn’t been able to _not_ think about it.

+

_It was at Youngjo’s insistence to get rid of the Hunters following them._

_Hwanwoong’s eyes were golden and wide, and if it hadn’t been for how angry Youngjo was, he’d have appreciated the sight. “But, it’s—“_

_“It_ is _simple, Woong,” Youngjo said, eyebrows furrowed. “We can’t even go on a_ date _without one of them or dozens of them sniffing us out.”_

_“Well.” Hwanwoong rolled his eyes, easily matching the fast pace with which Youngjo walked. While Youngjo had a point, he still proceeded to point out the obvious. “I wager some of it’s your fault. You said your family had been famous Hunters.” Hwanwoong remembers the shock he had felt upon receiving that bit of information—after all, he’d been in his most vulnerable state in front Youngjo, had even let the man bring him (begrudgingly, yes, yet still) lifeless, warm animals to drain in the middle of the forest he’d been found in. Hwanwoong had thought he’d just been some regular human; in this day and age, he could have even been in some sort of cult, and at the time, he assumed that’s why Youngjo kept meeting up with him too, so he could boast to his cultmates although a good half of them wouldn’t have believed him._

_Hwanwoong had a motive, too. That was why he also stuck around, why he kept meeting up with him, after the fact. It was an opportunity to lull the guy into a sense of security; it was a chance to feed, wipe his memory as best as his dulled powers would allow, and possibly repeat. He hadn’t even_ thought _of the possibility that Youngjo had previously been a Hunter._

_Hunters were still around, even in modern times—their numbers rising and falling quickly right along with the word in the wind about them. He cannot even remember why it was brought up, or how, but Hwanwoong remembers the rage, the humiliation, and the strange sense of betrayal he had felt._

_Rage and humiliation, at himself, for not connecting any sort of dots in the time their strange encounter budded into a weird friendship; and betrayal at Youngjo, simply for hiding the fact for so long._

_He remembers the growl that had torn from his throat, and he remembers lunging forward—his hands claws, his lip curled back to show just how sharp his teeth were; and he remembers that Youngjo hadn’t resisted. Youngjo hadn’t fought back. He’d allowed himself to be pushed around and shoved down; the guy had just laid under him, his expression nothing if not amused and a little disappointed. Hwanwoong remembers his words, a certain tilt to them:_ you gonna kill me, Woong?

_Needless to say, he definitely hadn’t._

_Hwanwoong clears his throat before speaking again. “They’re keeping tabs on you. I’m sure they aren’t thrilled about the fact you saved me, either.”_

_“I left that world years ago, Woong, so I’m_ more _than welcome to save you, or any other vampire I want.” He doesn’t add that he’d save Hwanwoong over anybody else, though, human or vampire. “Plus, why are you blaming it all on me? Aren’t you some exiled Prince? I’m sure they want you dead just as much as they want_ me _dead.”_

 _“Then I guess it’s_ both _our faults,” Hwanwoong whispered harshly. He grabbed Youngjo by the arm and veered to the left, and if Youngjo had to stumble a little to keep up, well, Hwanwoong thought nothing of it. “We’re close to the forest. We can’t have a bloodbath in the middle of town.”_

_Youngjo grumbled beside him, something about how he wouldn’t mind to humiliate them for all eyes to see, but Hwanwoong tuned him out._

_The situation had already been looking poor in their favor—the handful of Hunters following them were gaining speed, and if Hwanwoong strained his ears enough, he could hear the beeps of a cellphone and a raspy voice request back up. Hwanwoong knew they couldn’t keep running, especially into the night, for fear the Hunters follow them back to their shared land, their_ home _; and for all his seething rage, Youngjo knew it, too._

_It had been a few more minutes of running ahead of the herd of footfalls behind them that Hwanwoong stopped, forcing Youngjo to halt beside him. He assessed their surroundings, eyebrows furrowed in worry. They were in a small clearing, dense trees around them; they had already been at a disadvantage at the start, and now…_

_They couldn’t really run, not anymore._

_“It’s good enough,” Youngjo said, pulling Hwanwoong back into_ now _. “This is nothing we haven’t handled before, Hwanwoong, in a place worse than this.”_

_“It’s not ideal,” Hwanwoong sighed. The footfalls were quiet now, and heartbeats were around them. “But, you’re right.” He could smell rage, and bloodlust, and disgust. As he glanced toward Youngjo, who looked so enraged he could and would kill, Hwanwoong had to wonder just who was emitting those intense emotions._

_The two of them shift in unison, pressing their backs together. It hadn’t been terribly long that they’d been fighting together, but long enough for their bodies to be in sync._

_A tense moment passed, and then it all happened so fast._

_The first Hunter lunged from the tree line, and Youngjo met him in three easy steps, his long legs carrying him forward as if the soles of his feet hadn’t even a need to meet the ground. He could feel the shift clear as day in the small clearing, but as the dagger he always hid on his person sank into the Hunter he barely recognized, he had no time to think._

_From the corner of his eye, he could see the glow of Hwanwoong’s eyes, red staining his hands, and a lifeless body at his feet._

_Youngjo smiled, adrenaline pumping in his veins as he dodged the second Hunter that lunged for him. Effortlessly, he grabbed a fistful of the Hunters hair, forcing him down, gaining momentum just as effortlessly. Youngjo dug the heel of his boot into the Hunter’s spine and yanked his head back as far as it could go only to smash his face into the forest floor, greeting sharp rocks and fungus. Youngjo hadn’t stopped even when there was a pool of blood beneath the Hunters face, even when he heard the soft crack of the man’s nose breaking, his cheekbone shattering, his jaw dislocating._

_Only when the wet, bloody gurgles came to a halt did Youngjo let the man’s face fall into the puddle of blood._

_To the left, he heard shouts full of freight, and then the noise of footfalls retreating into the forest._

_To the right, he heard a pained shout followed by Hwanwoong’s growl, and couldn’t help but feel pride swell in his chest._

_“Youngjo—!” Hwanwoong screamed, and it was strange, how it didn’t sound as victorious as he felt._

_It’s when he feels fire slice across his back that he understands._

_He went down hard and fast, grunting in pain as the Hunter hovering above him stepped on his wrist hard enough for the bones to grind together, causing him to loosen his hold on the dagger. Youngjo tried to reach as far as he could with his fingers despite the constriction, straining his muscles to the max and he_ seethed _in anger when the Hunter swooped down to pick his dagger up._

 _Youngjo’s back was on fire, and his jacket was already beginning to feel sticky, and he felt so_ fucking _angry. He thrashes, struggling to throw the Hunter off balance, teeth biting into the flesh of his mouth to hold back the pain. Youngjo’s looking at the smashed, broken face of the man he’d just killed, the blood on the forest floor flooding his nostrils, the edges of the rocks cutting into his cheek, and he cannot help but feel irritated, even angrier, over how he’d lowered his guard so stupidly._

 _He knew better, and_ now _—_

 _“Rotten boy, disgrace to our Oath. Have you no_ shame _?” the Hunter above him mocked._

_“I know no Oath—“ Youngjo hissed, body going rigid as the Hunter grinded his boot into his spine, knocking the wind from his lungs._

_“You vile child.” The Hunter stomped on his back, raising his voice to be heard over the way Youngjo coughed and sputtered. “Only when I drag you back to the Elders will you—“_

_A rush of wind passed him, followed by a wet, choked sound. Youngjo could barely see anything out of his peripheral vision, the fire scorching his back too painful to even think about moving. He can just barely hear wet sounds; can barely differentiate the new smell of blood that wafts into the air._

_There is rage, and disgust, and something that felt like fear in the air._

Strange, _he thought._

_Youngjo can hear Hwanwoong growling, a rumble that is soothing to him rather than terrifying. He can hear Hwanwoong spitting, muttering about how the blood tasted too foul to even consider drinking. Youngjo couldn’t help but laugh, breathless and damp, because you figured a vampire wouldn’t be terribly picky._

_It is then that he feels Hwanwoong’s attention shift to him._

_“Youngjo—“ Hwanwoong gasped, and he sounded different, like his fangs were out. It was incredibly endearing, Youngjo thought, and then he proceeded to think_ nothing _as he felt a weight on his ass; it didn’t take him long to figure out, even in his muddle minded state, that Hwanwoong was straddling him._

_Not in the way he imagined, and definitely not in the place he imagined._

_“Youngjo. Can you hear me?”_

_He opened his mouth, nothing but a wet gurgle coming out._

_“You’re bleeding too much too fast, Youngjo,” Hwanwoong said urgently. His hands hovered over the wound, blood flowing out and staining the dark material of his jacket. The underlying scent was the same, but there was something else—something tempting, something sweet, something that makes Hwanwoong feel drunk just by being so close. “I—I can stop it, Youngjo.”_

_Youngjo grunted, indicating he understood. Royals_ were _different, he knew._

_“But, it’ll… it’ll take a bit longer,” Hwanwoong said, sheepish. “It’ll be painful.”_

_He grunted again, coughing in place of a laugh. Exiled royals’ powers_ were _subdued, he knew._

_Hwanwoong shifted against him, and Youngjo didn’t have time to ponder about how inappropriately his thoughts ventured as he felt his clothes being grabbed; then there was a tearing sound, and Youngjo groaned in protest._

_“It’s replaceable, Youngjo, please stop squirming.”_

_He did, only for his whole body to go rigid._

_Hwanwoong licked at his back, lapping up the blood carefully and over the wound gently. Perhaps it should be unpleasant, maybe even a little gross with how_ wet _it sounded, but it did anything but disgust Youngjo. He groaned, fingers twitching against the forest floor because he wanted nothing more than to reach behind him and tug at Hwanwoong hair, gently—wanted nothing more than to urge him to take more blood. Hwanwoong kept licking, his tongue following the curve of the wound on his back and when he hummed, Youngjo could feel it vibrate into him._

_The fire that scorched his back seemed to seep outward only to encase him._

Everything— _Youngjo could feel everything. The texture of Hwanwoong’s tongue, the pressure of Hwanwoong’s hips against his, the gentle way Hwanwoong’s hands were settled against his waist. He could even feel the wound on his back, excruciatingly slow, begin to mend and heal due to Hwanwoong’s saliva._

 _An exiled Prince was_ exiled _, yes, but still Royalty, nonetheless._

_Hwanwoong leaned away, his mind spinning and chest heaving. He struggled to focus on Youngjo’s back—messy with spit and smeared blood and for a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder what the expression on his face looked like._

_“Y-Youngjo,” he stuttered, sounding as strung out as he felt. Youngjo’s blood was sweet, too much yet not enough and Hwanwoong swore that his whole body felt like it would_ glow. _He couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to actually_ drink _from the guy. Hwanwoong was sure his eyes were already lit up in a rich gold, rivaling the way the moon shone rich silver; and a thought crossed his mind, then, that Youngjo could very well be_ the one, _but Hwanwoong discarded it quickly. It wasn’t the time to think of such things. “I have to carry you back, Youngjo.”_

_“No,” he moaned. It was uncomfortable—his back was struggling to mend itself with the help of Hwanwoong’s saliva, and his whole body felt as though it were on fire. It was uncomfortable—Youngjo wanted nothing more than to feel the sensation of Hwanwoong’s mouth on him again, and again; wanted nothing more than to put his mouth on Hwanwoong in return. He sighed at the thought, wincing at the pain that followed right behind. “No,” Youngjo moaned again._

_“I—I have to,” Hwanwoong said softly. Carefully, he stood only to step to the side, crouching down and lifting Youngjo’s left arm gently. It was effortless, really, picking up Youngjo, but Hwanwoong wanted to be careful more than anything. Slowly, Hwanwoong turned on the balls of his feet, hating the groans and pained moans that left Youngjo’s mouth as he guided Youngjo’s arm over his shoulder, as he reached back to get Youngjo’s other arm, too. “Youngjo. Youngjo, can you move? At least a little?”_

_“No,” he moaned._

_Hwanwoong couldn’t help but laugh despite the seriousness of their situation. “Come on. For me.”_

_Youngjo groaned, but complied. He tightened his arms around Hwanwoong’s neck, his muscles burning with the effort. Hwanwoong stood slowly, Youngjo on his back, his legs dangling until Hwanwoong slipped his hands underneath his thighs and kept them at his waist. He took an experimental step forward, and when the only sound that came from Youngjo was a small whine, Hwanwoong trekked toward home._

_He’d deal with the mess, later._

+

Youngjo blinks away the memory, his skin prickling with anticipation even now. He remembers bringing it up—a strange hesitance on his tongue, a burning fire in his chest, but… _I wouldn’t want to take…advantage of you,_ Hwanwoong had said—and again, Youngjo thinks, _what a weird vampire_.

After all, how long had it been since their weirder-than-before friendship budded into what is was, now?

Youngjo sighs as he gives Hwanwoong a _look._ “Now you’re really being mean.”

“Now you’re really being _silly_ ,” Hwanwoong counters with a smile.

“Wha—?”

“Did you really think…” Hwanwoong closes the distance, his eyes burning like the fire he’s seen a lot, recently. He moves his hands, the cool skin of his palms easing the heat of Youngjo’s skin. Hwanwoong shifts, rolling his hips so that the man beneath him could _feel_ the want that seizes his core. When Youngjo gasps, Hwanwoong lolls his head to the side with a smile. “Do you _really…_ honestly _think…_ ” Hwanwoong murmurs, inclining his head. He bumps their foreheads together, trailing a line down the side of Youngjo’s neck with a fingertip. He can feel it all—the want that mimics his own, the heart beat, the rush of _blood._ Hwanwoong thinks that he will go mad if he doesn’t get closer, if he doesn’t taste Youngjo again. “…that I would pass up an opportunity, to taste you again?”

“That’s—“ Youngjo laughs, breathless. _That’s unbelievable,_ he thinks, gripping Hwanwoong’s hips; he tries to urge him forward, desperate for contact. “But you _never…_ ” Youngjo furrows his eyebrows, a tangle of emotions bombarding his senses as he recalls the very first time he asked, and how Hwanwoong avoided him for a day and a half. “You _said_ , you didn’t want to take adva—“

“Am I not allowed to be nervous?” Hwanwoong asks, and he means to sound curious but he knows there is a teasing tilt to his question.

Youngjo groans, exasperated. “You’re such a weird vampire.”

“So I’ve been told,” Hwanwoong says, amused as his lips curve into a small smile. He moves his hands, sliding his left one to the back of Youngjo’s head, only to card his fingers through his hair as he places his other one to Youngjo’s chest. “Really, Youngjo…you can’t blame me. I… I’ve never wanted someone so much before. It’s been getting… harder and harder to… _resist_ ,” he laughs, just a small huff of air as he leans back a bit. As Hwanwoong looks at Youngjo, he sees it there: bright like sun, overwhelming like the tide _. There it is,_ he thinks, and says, “Especially when you always look at me like that.”

Youngjo hums, but doesn’t look away. He can feel it—his expression is soft, he’s sure. He’s sure that it is open, and vulnerable, and he knows Hwanwoong could read him clearly anyways, even if his expression wasn’t as it was now. Youngjo swallows against the lump in his throat and he can feel the skip of his heart when Hwanwoong’s eyes dart down to watch the motion. “Woong,” he murmurs, the blood in his veins singing when Hwanwoong’s eyes dart back up to his eyes. _Cute,_ Youngjo thinks, and then he catches himself thinking, _this is what he means._

Slowly, Youngjo raises a hand only to cup Hwanwoong’s cheek, and it is so endearing, the way the vampire straddling him looks surprised. “You know…Woong,” he says gently, voice softening as the nickname leaves his mouth. “The look on your face is an exact mirror of my own.”

“Yes.” Hwanwoong agrees so quickly it sounds more like a sigh than anything. He cradles the back of Youngjo’s head as he leans forward and gently, Hwanwoong presses his lips to Youngjo’s. “I know,” is whispered against Youngjo’s lips. Hwanwoong can feel Youngjo against him, all around him—to the soft graze of his lips, to the barely there pressure of Youngjo’s hand now at the back of his head. Hwanwoong is speechless as Youngjo tilts his head, as Youngjo guides him closer.

“Hwanwoong,” Youngjo murmurs. He removes his hand from the back of Hwanwoong’s head, placing it to the other’s hip again. Hwanwoong is motionless against him—a hand is still at the base of Youngjo’s skull, the other still at the rapid beat of his heart. Youngjo can feel the vampire’s hesitance, the want, the electricity that seems to radiate from the both of them and spark between them. He swallows against the lump in his throat for what seems like the umpteenth time; with his head lolled to the side, his neck is exposed, but Hwanwoong’s mouth only hovers there, not even a slight brush of his lips. Youngjo would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting anxious for fear the other would reject him. “H…Hwanwoong.”

“Youngjo,” Hwanwoong whispers, his voice hoarse and strained.

 _Oh,_ Youngjo thinks, lightning in his veins. He leans his head back against the couch as he tells him, “you can.”

The first press of Hwanwoong’s lips against his neck is shocking. Youngjo’s entire body jerks in response, his senses thoroughly surprised; but it doesn’t stop him from exposing as much of his neck as he can. A kiss wasn’t what he was expecting, but it was more than welcome.

Hwanwoong moves on top of him—his hips roll gently, grinding down as he presses firm kisses along Youngjo’s neck. His hand becomes a fist in Youngjo’s hair and he finds himself pressing the palm of his other hand against Younjo’s chest, chasing the feel of his heart.

It strums along quickly, a melody that Hwanwoong seems to control more often than not.

He sighs against Youngjo’s neck, right against the sensitive curve where shoulder and neck meet, and as Youngjo laughs softly while canting his hips upward, chasing friction, Hwanwoong can’t help drag his tongue against the quick pulse that lies beneath soft skin. He can feel the moment Youngjo’s breath catches in his throat, and he’s thankful his face is hidden in Youngjo’s neck, that Youngjo is too occupied in the overwhelming sensation, because Hwanwoong is sure he’d get teased for the smile on his face.

It’s on a sudden, particular rough thrust upward that Hwanwoong moans against Youngjo’s neck.

“Ah—“ Hwanwoong gasps, eyes wide as he peeks at the other, “that—“

“I felt you smiling,” Youngjo teases, holding back _giggles,_ of all things.

“Of _course_ you did.” Hwanwoong shakes his head, but he’s still smiling, even as he kisses Youngjo’s neck again. He smiles all the while kissing up, behind his ear and downward, to the dip of his clavicle. Youngjo is warm against him, hips twitching upward but just barely so, as if he himself isn’t even aware of it. Hwanwoong can feel it, though—it’s evident between them, making the air around them a little thinner, but in the best way. “Youngjo,” he murmurs, placing an opened mouth kiss to the curve of his neck.

“Hwanwoong,” Youngjo sighs, digging his fingers into Hwanwoong’s hips only to drag him forward—but it doesn’t take much urging.

Hwanwoong follows the motion easily, rolling his hips with precision; he drags their erections together on the curve of the thrust before easing back, more breathless than he was before. Beneath him, Youngjo is the same—jaw clenched, eyes full of fire, but while the flame burns bright, it is soft, nonetheless.

“I…” Hwanwoong begins, speechless, his own fire flickering upward, higher and higher. “Now.”

“I’ve been waiting, Woong,” Youngjo says softly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Mm,” he hums as he leans in, grazing his lips to Youngjo’s neck. “It wasn’t a question.”

“Good,” Youngjo murmurs, and he barely has time to prepare himself before he feels sharp teeth against his neck, before those sharp teeth pierce his skin.

The moan that spills from Youngjo’s lips is automatic, just as the moan that catches in Hwanwoong’s throat is. It’s so much different, than before—there is no harsh taste of a dirty blade alongside the blood; just the sun, and life, and love, and an overwhelming sweetness. He is able to bask in the taste of Youngjo’s blood instead of the fear that had overcome him.

Hwanwoong rolls his hips forward, body shaking with the dizzying want and need that overcomes his body; he sucks gently, mind swimming as blood fills his mouth. Youngjo’s hands have moved to his lower back, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt so tightly that the blunt of his fingernails is sure to leave faint indents of little moons behind on his skin.

Youngjo meets Hwanwoong’s thrusts, the front of his jeans too tight for comfort, but the need to have his hands on Hwanwoong beats the need for his dick to be out. He shivers as Hwanwoong sucks at his neck; he sighs as Hwanwoong licks over the puncture marks. Youngjo’s hips stutter mid thrust as Hwanwoong moans, eliciting a moan from Youngjo as well because their pleasure was each _others._

“Woong, Woong—“ he groans, a breathless laugh rolling off his tongue. He rolls his hips up just as Hwanwoong grinds down. “H-Hwanwoong.”

Hwanwoong hums in question, the fist in Youngjo’s hair long since loosened; now, he cups Youngjo’s cheek in his hand as his other tugs the collar of his shirt down. Hwanwoong licks the marks on Youngjo’s neck, his dick twitching every time the man beneath him shivers and twitches in response. He moans against Youngjo’s skin, placing opened mouth kisses to the marks there as he grinds down, again and again, meeting Youngjo each time.

“You— _ah, nnh,”_ Youngjo gasps, sliding his hands to Hwanwoong’s hips only to keep him in place; they’re flush against each other now, the air around them charged. Hwanwoong kisses at the marks again, dragging his tongue against them one last time before leaning back. Youngjo sighs contently and turns his head gingerly. It’s when he’s able to _feel_ the exact place Hwanwoong bit him when he moves that he feels his face flush. “Uhm…” Youngjo clears his throat, struggling to keep his eyes on the vampire straddling him as he straightens himself so that his head wasn’t leaning on the back of the couch. He glances away only to look back immediately. “Was that… ah… good?”

Hwanwoong blinks at him in surprise, and then his smile becomes blinding. “Why would you even ask, Youngjo?” he laughs, settling his hands at Youngjo’s shoulders. Hwanwoong cants his hips forward, relishing in the way Youngjo’s eyebrows knit together, in the way he looks so blissed out, so close to the edge. He leans forward, bumping their foreheads together as he continues moving his hips, feeling just as close to the edge, himself. “It was the best,” Hwanwoong murmurs earnestly.

“Yeah,” Youngjo sighs, digging his fingers into Hwanwoong’s hips. His mind spins, over and over, so much that he isn’t sure if he’s really fully _there_ or not. The pleasure is too thick to not drown in, and the way Hwanwoong whines and moans is enough to get Youngjo off. “It’s th-the same for m— _ahh,_ ” he gasps just as Hwanwoong does, barely able to keep his eyes open as he watches Hwanwoong’s head tilt back.

 _Too much,_ he thinks, and yet it is not enough at all.

“Woong—“

 _“Y-Youngjo,_ ” Hwanwoong moans, the blunt of his nails digging into the man’s shoulders. His thrusts have become frantic and sloppy, the pleasure clouding his mind and there is the lingering taste of Youngjo’s blood on his tongue that makes it all the more _harder_ to keep it together, _and_ —

“H-Hwanwoong, if you k-keep doing that, I—“

“ _Mm,”_ Hwanwoong hums, jaw slack with breathless laughter as Youngjo’s hands travel to his ass. He lolls his head forward, his mind reeling with the fact that Youngjo looks just as wrecked as he feels. “Good,” he gasps, desperation coating his tongue alongside the faint taste of love. He moves against Youngjo, and it is such a pleasant surprise, that even with how wrecked they both were, their bodies still moved in perfect unison. “Cum, Youngjo, just like this—“

Youngjo pulls Hwanwoong forward, hands splayed against his ass to keep him in place. He thrusts up as Hwanwoong grinds down, and with the current position, Youngjo is able to bury his face against the other’s collarbone. He moans against Hwanwoong’s skin, hips stuttering the closer he gets, skin growing hotter the more Hwanwoong moans, the more Hwanwoong tells him _cum, just like this, like this, right there, Youngjo, Youngjoyoungjoyoungjo—_

Youngjo moans, a deep guttural noise that shakes Hwanwoong’s very core; and Hwanwoong sees stars as it takes him over the edge, too.

He’s slumped over Youngjo, a bit—standing on his knees as he straddles the man, a hand to his shoulder while the other slips into soft strands of black hair. Hwanwoong’s head is inclined, just enough so that his nose is buried in the crown of Youngjo’s hair and Youngjo’s face is nuzzled into the crook of Hwanwoong’s neck.

The moment is soft, and easy, yet still so electrifying.

Hwanwoong can feel it in his skin, and he’s sure that Youngjo feels it, too, just by how the beat of his heart has yet to settle. It feels too good to be against each other, still feels too warm to _not_ possibly be so affected. He kisses the top of Youngjo’s head, grinding his hips down experimentally although the sensitivity was still present for the both of them.

Youngjo moans, shaky and small, and Hwanwoong just smiles.

“Again?” Hwanwoong murmurs, just barely above a whisper.

“You don’t even have to ask,” Youngjo laughs softly. “Do your legs hurt? Please say yes, because I’m just trying to get you on your back.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Hwanwoong whines dramatically, lips twitching with laughter. “It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt, as a vampire.”

“Good,” Youngjo says. He squeezes Hwanwoong’s ass, and it earns him a raised eyebrow. “What? I’m just trying to get a good grip. I can’t drop you on the way to bed, you know.”

“Oh, _right,_ ” he agrees, rolling his hips; it should be uncomfortable, but it really isn’t, especially as Youngjo’s hands halt in their ministrations, especially as his hips jerk forward. “If you don’t hurry, I might just go for round two right here.”

“No, no,” Youngjo says quickly, shaking his head. He stands abruptly, and Hwanwoong gasps as he quickly wraps his legs around Youngjo’s waist. “No need, Woong. I’ll take you to bed in _no time,_ ” he promises, his smile cheesy; it makes Hwanwoong roll his eyes and lean forward only to kiss and lick at the bite marks on Youngjo’s neck, and that, in return, only makes Youngjo _laugh_.

It takes longer to make it to the bedroom, but hearing Youngjo laugh was just as well.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading. ♥


End file.
